


hardcore will never die

by pantherophis



Category: Jet Set Radio Future
Genre: Gen, robots who don't know shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:20:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8417209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantherophis/pseuds/pantherophis
Summary: but you will





	

Dusk loomed over the city, sending long purple and pink streaks of colour across the dying afternoon sky. The Garage was full; everybody was home tonight, which was unusual. Most of the time a few GG’s liked to fool around under the cover of darkness, and with increased police presence at night, the potential danger of getting caught was even more of a thrill.

He heard them now below, talking and laughing and doing casual tricks on the rails. It was loud. Too much to process. Not that he couldn’t, but why should he have to deal with a sensory overload? He shouldn’t, he decided with a mechanical grunt, and strode further away to the borders of the Garage.

He stopped short, built-in skates screeching against the concrete. If he could have, he would have narrowed his eyes. Ahead was the road to 99th Street, one of the many places he’d been banned from entering due to his appearance. He let out a staticky growl. After the Rokakku incident, the GG’s had told him to lay low for a while, lest his sudden reappearance on the streets cause another panic. 

Bullshit. As if human assholes on skates weren’t disturbing to the public, he thought bitterly. They just didn’t want him to be free. 

Only for a while, they had said. But what was he supposed to do in the mean time? He was stuck in the Garage like an animal in a cage.

He turned sharply and skated back to where he’d came from, then circled around in another tight loop, pacing. He didn’t need them. He could go, if he wanted to. He should go.

A scuffling noise – skates, human skates, unlike his own – alerted him to someone behind him. He whipped around, ready to combat whatever scolding he was about to be given, but his flare of emotion died down when he recognized who it was.

The hooded being coasted closer on its skates. It cocked its head to the side, questioningly.

Zero Beat felt something peculiar, like fondness, at the sight of NT-3000. It was the only other non-human in the Garage, and although it was identical in appearance to Yoyo, it was an inorganic being like himself. Zero Beat felt a kinship with it more than anyone else.

“What do you want?” Zero Beat said. As he spoke, he was made aware of the strange quality of his voice, not quite human, but close enough to make humans who heard it uncomfortable.

NT-3000’s face, hidden by glasses and hood, gave away no emotion. It only shrugged and nodded slightly in his direction.

“Can’t you talk?” Zero Beat barked, and realized a moment too late he sounded more impatient than he meant to.

The other robot was quiet. Then, in the exact copy of Yoyo’s voice, it spoke. “I can.”

Zero Beat stood, staring at it. That was the first time he’d ever heard it say anything besides a few of Yoyo’s catchphrases. He was struck with an odd feeling – curiosity, he thought is what it was called. Why did its voice sound so similar to the human it was based on? Suddenly he felt strange. He didn’t want to ride that train of thought right now.

“They said you can’t go out,” NT-3000 said. 

“Who cares what they said?” Zero Beat growled. 

It shook its head, as if he’d misunderstood. “They say you can’t,” it repeated. “Not me.”

Zero Beat glanced at the rails leading to 99th Street. Both their shadows stretched out across the concrete, long and uncanny. 

His shadow stared back at him without eyes.

“Come with me,” Zero Beat said suddenly to NT-3000. “You look human enough. It’ll be fine if we’re together.” 

NT-3000 considered this for a moment, then nodded. It skated forward, then paused for Zero Beat to catch up. The two robots rocketed down the rails together and soon the Garage was out of sight and out of mind.

-

“Does it bother you?” Zero Beat asked as he grinded down a rail and leapt off into a deserted alley. NT-3000’s skates hit the ground a moment later and it coasted forward before turning around with a confused tilt of its head. Zero Beat added, “Does it bother you that you look like him?”

NT-3000 paused. Then it shook its head.

Not satisfied, Zero Beat pressed it again. “That you _sound_ like him?”

It shook its head again.

With a growl Zero Beat stormed in a circle before stopping short in front of it. There was a significant height difference between them, as NT-3000 was the same height as Yoyo, but Zero Beat was even taller than his human counterpart. 

“Does anything bother you?” he snapped.

NT-3000 didn’t move. Had they been two humans, the close proximity might have made them uncomfortable if their relationship was not intimate. But being inorganic, they felt no such discomfort.

“Yes,” NT-3000 said.

Zero Beat was _(that feeling again)_ curious. “What, then?”

It took a moment to respond, as if organizing its words. “They don’t treat me like a human.”

“Why would they? You’re not.”

Once again it formulated its sentence before it replied, “But I look and sound like one.”

“But they know you’re not,” Zero Beat said, getting agitated. “Besides, what do you care?”

It shrugged now. It didn’t _know_ why it cared, he realized, and then he felt a strange kind of pity for it.

“Come on,” Zero Beat suggested before dashing onto another long grind. He heard the scrape of skates behind him, and knew NT-3000 was following.

He flipped into the air and landed with a sharp turn on a platform overlooking the bustle of people below. To his side stood a large robotic mascot, moving in repetitive, stupid motions. Zero Beat looked at it in disgust.

When NT-3000 landed behind him, he growled, “Why do they make these?” He put a claw to the soft outer coating of the robot, shielding the machinery within. He wondered briefly if NT-3000 was the same underneath. 

He turned to it. “Why do they make us?”

“I was created to betray the GG’s and ruin them from the inside out,” NT-3000 said, as if repeating something it had heard once but didn’t truly understand.

“Me too. Except for the betrayal.” Zero Beat gazed upon the loose crowd of people on the streets, then looked down at the little hooded robot beside him. “We were made by the same humans, you know.”

“I did not know that,” NT-3000 said, genuinely appreciating the new information. 

Together they stood on the platform above the plaza, one a dull neon blur, and the other a shadow, melting into the night.

“Why are you called ‘he’?” NT-3000 asked suddenly.

“What?” Zero Beat said.

NT-3000 watched the people on the street as their boisterous voices floated up into the air.

“When the GGs address you,” NT-3000 began, “They call you ‘he.’ But they all call me an ‘it.’”

“So?”

“Are you not a robot, too?” NT-3000 asked, with the first hint of emotion Zero Beat had heard from it all night. “Why are you not an ‘it’?”

Zero Beat made a shrug-like gesture. “I don’t know,” he said. “Gouji called me his son.”

“You aren’t flesh and blood,” NT-3000 said.

The words made Zero Beat feel strange, almost uncomfortable. “Neither are you.”

“No,” NT-3000 agreed quietly. He held out a hand, examined it, and flipped it palm-up. Curiosity taking a hold of him again, Zero Beat pressed a claw against the fleshy layer of NT-3000’s hand. It had a lot of give, similar to human skin, and for a moment he was confused. But with its other hand, NT-3000 pushed down on Zero Beat’s claw, past the threshold the soft layer was built to withstand. His claw pierced the fake skin and clinked against something metallic and hard. No blood welled at the wound.

Zero Beat quickly withdrew his claws. He felt strangely violated, having his body used to cause harm to someone else. Then he remembered that was why he was created in the first place, and crackled with irritation. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked. Pieces of soft plush plastic curled up at the edges of where his claw had ripped through.

NT-3000 shrugged. It sat down, suggesting some kind of discomfort. “Corn will fix it later. Only the silicone was damaged.”

Zero Beat wasn’t designed to sit like a human could. Instead he stood, towering over the other robot. A stiff breeze blew from behind them, and his metallic tail moved in the wind’s direction.  
“I can call you ‘he’, if you want,” Zero Beat said suddenly.

NT-3000 turned to look at him. “Why?”

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?” Zero Beat muttered. “Maybe if the humans hear me saying it, they’ll start doing it, too.”

“Why would you do that for me? How does it help you?” NT-3000 asked.

Zero Beat felt a crackle of annoyance, but he wasn’t sure who it was directed towards. “You deserve to be treated the way you want.” He added, “Besides, you’re technically Gouji’s son, too.”

The little robot stared up. “I think humans have a word for that…” he said, digging through his vocabulary. “’Siblings’?”

“Brothers,” Zero Beat corrected. 

Another cold wind blew, making NT-3000’s hoodie billow. Zero Beat thought he saw a glimpse of teeth in a curled up grin on his face.

“Come on,” Zero Beat said. “Let’s get back before we freeze our circuits.”

NT-3000 was on his feet. Zero Beat could have sworn the little robot was standing taller than he did before. “Okay,” he agreed. He leapt down onto a rail that snaked up to the Garage. In a tone identical to Yoyo’s, he called up to Zero Beat, “Come on, bro!”

Zero Beat felt a strange sensation in his chassis. “Coming, bro.”


End file.
